The Other Son
by dimestoredramatic
Summary: Sam has always been the more talented son. Pre-Series, during Stanford


Disclaimer: Don't own it.

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You always should have known Sam would leave you, right from the day your mother died. Everyone leaves in the end and Sam had always been brave enough to refuse your father, smart enough to resist the trap of hunting. Sam was courageous, intelligent, selfless; he was your little brother, and he was everything you weren't.

When you first found out about Stanford, you couldn't even find words for your pride in him, even if you were miffed at him for leaving. But damned if you weren't jealous too, jealous of little Sammy and his tidy escape route, and how pathetic is that? Resenting your little brother for upstaging you at everything. He always was the more liked, brilliant, better hunter.

What were you? Sam got every talent imaginable and he excelled at each and every one of them; you just got the leftovers, the qualities no one looks for in a person, like the characteristic that enables a person to get shit-faced drunk.

You'd never really had a reason for living besides the all-purpose 'protect Sammy' rule your father forced on you when you were four years old. With Sammy at school, there was no point to your existence. You existed only in relation to Sam and if he'd gone then, well, you must have too.

Sam always thought you were the stronger brother but you'd always paled in contrast to him. He thought you wouldn't care if he left, but you did care and you cared even more about the fact that he thought you wouldn't care. Maybe Sam never realized it, but you were weak; weak enough to get your heart ripped out with every ignored phone call and hopeless enough that every time your phone rang or someone knocked on the door, you immediately thought it was Sam.

Every time your father dragged you past his school to check on him, it killed you a little more. It hurt to see that Sam was handling life fine without you, while you were barely holding it together; it hurt that your presence was so unessential to Sam's life, when you were practically the one who raised him.

Maybe you protected him too well and he began to feel he was a match for the world; maybe you needed someone to protect you, too, because you could never even begin to contemplate facing the world without your Sammy at your side.

Inside, you'd always been sensitive and emotional, but Sam beat you at that one, too. You may have been fragile, but your sweet little brother could always have you looking like a hard-ass in comparison.

Envy or no envy, you'd have given your life for your brother's a million times over, because in spite of everything, he was the most important person in your world, and quite apart from that, his life was always worth so much more. Your soul was tarnished from the day your mother burned, and yet everything about Sam could only be eunoic and rational, strength and perfection.

If you'd had to pick between yourself and Sam, it would have been him, every single time.

You thought Sam would have done the same for you, not because he cared or because you were worth anything, but because he was Sam. He was a hero, and he saved everyone.

You'd saved people too, but there were so many you hadn't and you were pretty certain you could never have saved yourself.

After a couple of years, you'd still see Sam everywhere you turned, but you'd learnt to be grateful for what you had. You still had your father, and even though that was very little, it still meant so much to you. It was hard, trying to fill Sam's shoes and your dad didn't make it easier on you. He called you Sam, as if pretending that Sam was still there and that you were the one that had gone would make it so. You knew your dad would have given anything for you not to have been who you were.

You once talked back to your dad, in a feeble attempt to make your poor facsimile of Sam seem more realistic, but your dad got so mad that you vowed never to do it again. Your dad would never hit one of his sons, but you had never been a son to him, really, just a soldier. Pretending to be Sam wouldn't stop your dad from hurting you and only Sam could ever really be Sam anyway.

It was no real surprise when your dad left, too. You'd always thought he'd only be able to last so long without his favourite son to butt heads with. You imagined that he'd gone to California, occasionally tackling the supernatural, but mainly just basking in the happiness brought to him by his perfect son. Without you to slow them down, they'd probably long since killed the creature that started this crusade.

You laughed while thinking that, because it struck you that even this creature picked Sam. It chose Sam's nursery, over your room. You found that funny, because everyone chooses Sammy, in the end. Everyone had always loved Sam most, and you couldn't help but think that it was because Sam was good at everything, while you were good at being nothing at all.

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End file.
